


Shadows and Ice

by LovecraftsPetCat



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Based On a D&D Game, D&D Backstory, Gen, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Tieflings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovecraftsPetCat/pseuds/LovecraftsPetCat
Summary: Follows the story of a Tiefling girl that has to overcome trials to escape the shadows of her past.





	1. Malairis

Shadows and Ice: Malairis

            This name, Malairis, was the one thing that she never let go of. She never knew her parents, but she had always been told that her father was a very powerful individual by the people in the town where she spent the first four years of her life. Malairis was told that her mother was the most beautiful tiefling that had ever lived and that she loved Malairis’ father to a fault. The only town she had ever known was ransacked by a band of orcs that were on a raiding run. The orcs took women and left most of the children. The chieftain, however, took special interest in Malairis.

At first, he seemed to be a father to her. He would dress her up in the finest garments available and let her eat alongside him. Her living conditions were below that of most humans and other less beastly races, but it was lavish for an orcish village. She dwelled in the chieftain’s longhouse. A simple structure with a storage room, a large room working as living, cooking, and dining quarters, and finally the bedroom. The bedroom was dark like the rest of the house and the bed was lined with the finest of furs allowed only to the chieftain. She was rarely allowed to leave the longhouse, but when she did leave, she remembered how much she loved the sun. The chieftain was simple and did his best to make sure she stayed in the longhouse. He tried giving her reasons not to leave the longhouse and she accepted these reasons, despite realizing that even he didn’t understand his explanations. One day, the chieftain came back with a piece of furniture. It was a small vanity with a scratched and smudged mirror. It was at this moment, looking into the mirror, she knew what she truly looked like. This wasn’t like the distorted images of puddles and the blood-stained blades of the orcs. It was really her; she was a small tiefling with lavender skin and long black hair. Coming from the base of her back, there was a thin tail a little over half her height in length. Malairis noticed something striking about herself, she had eyes that shined like the sun. She had known the color, but never the vibrancy they held. The chieftain asked her, “You like?” She nodded her head and he left her to gaze upon her image.

During the years she spent in the village he would bring her the things he saw the domesticated females of the common races would use to groom themselves. During this time, Malairis became obsessed with making herself look appealing. She wanted something beautiful to look at while living in the orc village. Malairis even polished the deep purple horns that climbed from her temples. She got an early start in developing at the age of ten. By the time she was twelve she had what looked like a young teen’s figure. The chieftain changed and acted less like a father, and more like a predator stalking his prey. He would still dress her in the finest clothes the village offered, yet the clothes had changed in style. They were more revealing, and slowly less fabric was used in the clothes presented to her. When Malairis transitioned to the age of thirteen it happened for the first time. Full clarity of her situation hit her with one act. The chieftain arrived from a raid and used his simple words like he usually did, only this time he would move closer than normal. His words had more purpose than his usual droning. Eventually, he was on top of her and she refused to commit the actions of that day to memory. Day in and day out this would occur and every time she would pray to anything to give her a way out.

One day, her prayers were answered. Malairis was fourteen years old and had given birth to the half-orc child of the chieftain. The night she gave birth to his foul offspring was the first night he made it a point to not to assault her. He was too busy celebrating the birth of the child. Many orcs in his clan resented a half-orc, but regardless the chieftain saw this as an achievement, he was to be the warrior to lead his people to victory and conquest.

Malairis, obviously, did not join in these festivities, but it wasn’t due to the hours of labor she had endured. Looking into the small mirror of the vanity the chieftain had plundered for her when she was small, she was seated, motionless, with a blank stare on her face. She touched her jet-black hair still damp with the sweat of labor. She looked to her body and couldn’t help but wonder what made the chieftain want her so much. Malairis finally looked into her eyes, glowing yellow like the sun she rarely got to see. A tear formed in her eye and many followed, flowing down her face onto her body. She opened a drawer and pulled out an ornamental knife possibly plundered from a noble the chieftain murdered. She stole it from him after he fell asleep and stashed it in her drawer. Sitting in front of her beloved vanity she contemplated the end of her life.

As her courage grew something spoke to her with a low disembodied voice. Malairis dropped the knife and backed up from the vanity mirror, knocking over her small stool. The voice continued, grew louder, and more voices joined. There were what sounded like thousands of voices yelling out to her and one voice rose above the rest. By this point, Malairis was curled up on her tainted bed, covering her ears. When the most prominent voice broke through the ocean of sound, the rest of the voices ceased their incessant chatter. It spoke directly to Malairis, “Sweet child, please do not be alarmed. I am here to make everything better.”

Malairis uncurled from her fetal position and sat upright on her bed. “How,” she asked, nervous to provoke more conversation.

“I am here to give you the courage you seek. Give you the knowledge you seek. The… _power_ you seek.” Malairis did not quite understand what the voice was telling her, but she found herself intrigued and listening to the voice. “To gain all that I offer all you have to do is break the shackles that bind you… you must take a life.”

Malairis was taken aback by the concept of taking another’s life. “You want me kill? I can’t…”

Malairis stopped herself, remembering that just moments ago she was prepared to take her own. Her mind had begun racing. Was the voice going to just tell her to do what she had already planned to do? The voice interrupted her train of thought, “Ignorant child, I do not wish for a potential instrument to be rendered useless.” The voice sounded annoyed, but how did it know what she was thinking? Did she say it aloud? “Child, you have had the key to your cell longer than you know. All you must do is insert it… into the keyhole.” Suddenly, the knife she had planned to take her own life with glowed an ominous pale green. “Take up the key, sweet child.” Without much thought she left her place on the bed and approached the knife. “Yes, raise the blade high and take back your life.”

Taking up the knife, Malairis knew then what she was to do. In the room next to her a frail she-orc midwife was tending to the newborn half-orc. Malairis peered into the dark living room of the primitive longhouse. The fire pit was glowing with heat and the orcish midwife was leaning over the makeshift crib. Malairis looked down at her knife still glowing that pale green. “She is weak. End her miserable life,” the voice commanded.

Right as she started to formulate a strategy to kill the midwife, the door of the longhouse swung open. Malairis rushed to her vanity and placed the knife back into the drawer and quickly dove beneath the covers. She heard the chieftain tell the midwife, in orcish, to leave the longhouse and that his child did not need her coddling. To him, that child was a warrior brought forth by his own warrior blood. The chieftain passed through the curtains into the bedroom and looked at Malairis briefly. After the brief pause, he unclothed himself. She couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh when he decided to merely go to sleep. The extreme fatigue of child birth was finally catching up to her and she was slipping into unconsciousness. She was nearly asleep when the voice returned to her. “Are you truly going to throw away your chance for freedom? Do you really want to be his prize for the rest of your pathetic life?” She was half asleep and had difficulty thinking clearly. She wondered how she was even understanding this voice. She did not know the language that it was speaking and yet she knew exactly what it was saying. The voice once again interrupted her thoughts, “You are trying my patience, child.”

The fatigue that had caught up to her suddenly disappeared entirely. Malairis looked towards the vanity at the drawer housing the knife. She gently turned her head to look behind her at the hulking chieftain. He was sound asleep. She knew this because many days this was the only time where she was free of his advances. Malairis slid from beneath the covers and made her way over to the vanity. Slowly, she opened the drawer where the knife dwelled. The aura that had once surrounded the knife had grown from a pale moss color to a bright blinding green. Malairis hoped that the light would not wake the chieftain. “Child, take your life back. You have your key and there is the door to your cell… All that needs to be done now, is to make the keyhole.” The voice sounded harsh and excited. Malairis crept her way back to the bed where the chieftain was sleeping. The voice urged her on, “Do it, dear tiefling.” Without much thought Malairis climbed onto the bed slowly and stood over the chieftain. She raised her knife above her head and stared at a large pulsing vein in his neck. “Yes,” whispered the voice.

Malairis quickly slammed the knife into the neck of the chieftain. The second it pierced his skin; his eyes flew open and his hands went to grasp the at the wound. Malairis withdrew the knife and the chieftain, for the first time, turned over and looked up to _her_ with pleading eyes. Malairis plunged the blade into his chest. Blood was covering the bed, his body, and her blade. She withdrew the blade once more and plunged it into his chest again. The chieftain tried to grab her, but despite his strength she had wounded him to the point where all he could do was paw at her small frame. She let him weakly fight for his life while she repeatedly inserted her dagger into his chest and face. Finally, he was the one that looked pathetic. Life finally left his eyes and he was left staring helpless, without a spark, at the person that he had made feel helpless all those years. Malairis slumped against the lifeless boulder next to her. The knife’s intense glow died out in her hand. She looked at the blood covered blade, dripping and fresh. Catching her reflection in the blade, she could see just how much blood made its way onto her body.  

The voice congratulated her, “Excellent, my dear, you have opened the door to your cell. You do not have time to revel in this achievement. You must leave before any of the other mongrels come to find their chieftain in a pool of his own blood.”

Malairis stood and thought about just leaving the longhouse and running from the scene, but she realized that she would not make it very far without supplies. She gathered the most conservative clothing she had and covered what was still exposed with furs, slid her knife into her belt, and grabbed the food that she refused to eat tonight, placing it into a sack. It was just a piece of bread and a fruit of some kind. She grabbed the drinking skin from the chieftain’s clothing pile. She emerged from the bedroom and made for the exit. She didn’t even get to touch the door before she heard a whimper. The knife’s glow returned. “You’re not done here yet… You have the chance to sever all ties to this primitive place… take it.” The voice was pushing her. Malairis drifted to the crib where her son was resting. This is the first time that she looked upon her spawn. Feeling disgusted she, immediately grabbed the hilt of her blade. The baby looked at her and did not view her as a danger… it was innocent. It was a dark green and had the eyes of an orc but with the faint glow of a tiefling. Malairis backstepped quickly unable to believe that she almost murdered an infant, her child. She dashed to the exit of the longhouse and shouldered her way through the door. Malairis knew not where she was going, she only knew it was away from this place. She could hear briefly her child begin to cry and she joined him.

The voice crooned, “You will learn to obey me, imp.”

Malairis ran off into the night sobbing, not realizing that the outside world would not welcome her with open arms.


	2. Khirad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malairis escapes her life with the orcs to start her new life with the voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me whatcha think. Do you like or dislike it? Anything you feel about it would be great.

Malairis did not make it far before her stomach impeded her progress. She wished she had made the time to grab more food, but the voice claimed that she was in immediate danger. Malairis would try to hide in the woods in an effort to avoid the road having noticed that many kinds of people traveled the road and was fearful they had ties with the orcs. She would find berries that the voice would claim were safe to eat and later would vomit them back up. She found it increasingly difficult to trust the voice because of this and its consistently angered tone did not add to her trust. After many days of trial and error with what she can and can’t eat, she noticed that she was becoming incredibly thin. Malairis became more desperate and alongside scavenging for berries and other plants, she started hunting small animals. The animals in the forest turned out to be much faster and more knowledgeable of the terrain than she was. Malairis realized this quickly and became frustrated. This frustration erupted into her screaming and throwing anything she could get her hands on. The voice had been quiet for days and this stoked the flame of her tantrum causing it to escalate in volume and intensity. She claimed that the voice wasn’t trying to help, and that it didn’t even care about her. This incited a response from the voice, “Impudent fool, you truly think that I would assist you without having a use? All that hear my voice are tools at my disposal. You are nothing special. You are one of the many replaceable cogs in my grand mechanism.”

Hearing this, Malairis began to cry. She was cold, hungry, and alone. Was leaving the chieftain the most advantageous choice? The voice as if it could her thoughts spoke, “You are a weak, pathetic, waste. If you cannot handle the trivial hardships of life, then you will be of no use to me. Learn to use this frustration and hopelessness that you feel, rather than complaining like a child.”

 Malairis did not understand what the voice meant. How can what she is experiencing be simple hardship? Did the voice not know what she had been through? This was not trivial hardship. This was something no being should ever have to go through. She slammed her fist into the dirt and a green mist rose from beneath her fist. The earth where her fist impacted was as black as her hair. She lifted her hands to her face and stared into them. “What?”

The voice cackled, “That is merely a glimpse of the power you could have if you submit to my glory. Pledge yourself to me, child.”

Malairis was still staring at her hands. Wondering what more she could do with this power. “I… I pledge myself to you”, she muttered weakly.

The voice’s tone grew harsh and its volume rose, “No, you will pledge yourself to The Great Old One, Khirad, Star of Secrets.”

Malairis complied and recited his name pledging herself to it though she wasn’t sure the name was real because of how much of a mouthful it was. “Good,” the voice said. “Many secrets lie ahead, child. I only hope that you have the strength to uncover them.”

Suddenly, thousands of voices came to her louder than they were when they first made their entrance into her psyche. Malairis cowered and held her head screaming. Khirad’s voice was gone, replaced by the others. Eventually, the voices became too much, and she slipped into unconsciousness. When she finally awoke the voices were still present, but for some reason their volume and numbers didn’t affect her as badly. She wished they would stop and let her think. Her stomach joined the chorus of sound shortly after awaking. Concluding that these voices were stuck with her for now, she decided that she might as well try to make sense of them. Malairis sat beneath a tree listening to the voices trying to pick out important bits of information, but most of the voices were shouting gibberish. She felt herself falling into a state of mental disarray in her attempt to decipher the ramblings. Sitting beneath a tree she stared out into the darkness until the light of the sun rose over the horizon.

Light finally broke through the trees to shine on Malairis. She blinked and looked up towards the yellow and blue sky. Not knowing how long she had been sitting there motionless, she noticed her glowing eyes burned. Blinking some more to relieve her eyes from their vigil, she gathered her surroundings. The voices had grown quieter while she sat beneath the tree. Focusing on the voices was easier and she could understand bits and pieces of broken sentences. The sound of movement in the brush caught her attention. She slowly turned her gaze to the sound’s origin. A large hulking figure was towering over the brush glaring at her. It was large and muscular much like the chieftain, but had fur covering its body. Malairis weakly made her way to her feet with her eyes still locked on the creature. She noticed it had an object in it’s hand, some kind of crude weapon. It started towards her faster than she had expected. Because she barely had time to move out of lethal range of the weapon, it clipped her right shoulder. Malairis let out a cry and started towards the forest, but the beast grasped her by the horns. She was kicking and screaming between sobs. The beast lifted her to eye level. It was ugly and had tusks jutting from its mouth. Its nose was flat and every breath it took sounded labored and ejected saliva and mucus. After looking her up and down, the beast let out a roar. She was too defeated to scream or continue her kicking and just hung by her horn like fresh game. The voices in her mind except for Khirad came together to whisper, shout, and speak a single word, “Itap.”

Without much thought she looked the beast in its eyes, and outstretched her hand placing it on the flat, wet nose. The beast dropped its weapon to move and possibly remove her arm, but before it could touch her Malairis calmly recited, “Itap.”

The beast paused for just a moment and a look of horror spread across its face. It dropped the frail tiefling girl, grabbing its face roaring not in anger or rage but in fear. The hulking beast picked up the weapon it had dropped, firmly grasping it with two hands. The beast’s muscles tensed as it swung the weapon directly into its skull. The motion persisted until the blows gradually became weaker, eventually stopping when the beast fell forward to the ground. While the beast performed its own demise, Malairis had risen to her feet and approached the creature to watch what she had done. She gazed down at the body that had ceased breathing, starting with the feet, making her way towards the head. There was a pool of blood forming around its crushed skull. Malairis felt no remorse for the life she had just taken. The only thing that interested her was the limit of these abilities. Looking down at the corpse she felt her stomach tremor as it did before. Malairis didn’t hesitate when she drew her knife.

Cutting, ripping, and consuming the flesh from the beast, it did not bother her that the beast was humanoid in shape. Only hunger and the need to survive had power over her psyche.  A sharp pain in her shoulder shot through her body causing her to drop the flesh. This was a painful reminder that she needed to seek help for the wound the beast had left her. She touched her right shoulder and winced from the pain. The wound was wet and when she looked at her hand coated in her own blood. She tried to lift her right arm, but the pain nearly made her lose consciousness again. Ideas on how to treat her wound were alluding her and the voices weren’t guiding her either. Malairis remembered the old she-orc pressing a cloth to the chieftain’s shoulder after sustaining injuries from raids. Sliding the furs she took from the longhouse off her shoulder, she cut a piece from them to press her shoulder with. Khirad’s voice came to her, “Well done, sweet child. You stayed calm and gleaned something from what the baser races call ramblings.” This was the first time it spoke alongside the thousand voices. “Allow me to bless you with some more primitive information. Make your way towards the sun and clean that wound in the river. Then follow the river upstream until you come to a small port town called Land’s End. Don’t give in to your debility like you tend to do.”

Malairis said nothing. She only listened to the commands of Khirad moving without thought nor emotion. When she got to the water she snapped out of her trance and removed her soiled clothes. She was filthy, and she finally smelt the odor of her body. “Why didn’t wash sooner,” she asked herself.

She cleaned her body and hair making sure to cleanse her wound thoroughly in the process. It was much worse than she had thought. There was a large portion of skin missing and she believed she could see bone. Only the fact that it was broken was evident for sure. When she finished bathing she made her way upstream. She decided to just carry her clothes because they were filthy and could get into the wound. She thought about washing them in the river, but she didn’t want to waste any daylight waiting for them to dry nor did she want to wear or carry damp furs. The journey went on for what seemed like hours until she finally noticed the port town in the distance. Malairis quickened her pace.

When Malairis arrived in the port town, Land’s End, she noticed everyone going about their daily business and had no idea what she was to do. She decided to put on at least her fur skirt and draped the rest over her left shoulder leaving her right side exposed. Malairis was walking around the town admiring the structures. The village didn’t have any structures like this. Many people passed her by and they all seemed to be giving her distasteful looks, much like the ones she received from the she-orcs in the village. While admiring one of the buildings someone bumped into her and knocked her to the ground causing the furs to fall off her shoulder. The stranger screamed, “Watch where you’re going, imp slut,” and rushed past her.

Weakly, she pulled herself up off the ground, collecting her furs once more and was puzzled by the names he had called her. She recognized imp from the first night the voice spoke to her. She wondered if that was what she was to the rest of the world. Looking around the crowd of people she realized that she looked nothing like any of these people. They all had skin with plain pigments like hide and wore clothes that sometimes-had colors that matched her skin. No one had horns or eyes that shined like the morning sun. “They’re ugly,” Malairis muttered to herself.

Walking a few more minutes, she realized that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breath and her vision became blurry. Her stomach turned, and she had to run behind a building quickly. Once she found somewhere out of the piercing gaze of the townsfolk, her stomach forced out the flesh of the beast she had eaten. She fell to her knees. The furs on her shoulder flopped to the ground, soaking up the expelled substance. Finally, the violent torrents ceased, and she was left panting. She still found it hard to breath. Behind her, footsteps were heard, and she turned to see what was approaching grasping her knife in the process. “Please…” she whimpered trying to find the words to ask for help, but the pain of her stomach and her shoulder hindered her thoughts.

She looked up to see a tall thin figure with sharp ears approach her. “Poor girl, who has done this to you?” the figure inquired.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know,” she stuttered. Repeating the phrase over and over eventually breaking into a sob.

The figure removed their trench coat and wrapped it around Malairis’ tiny frame lifting her into their arms. “It’s alright, I’m here to help you, child. Do you want to tell me your name?”

They spoke gently while walking away from her incident, cradling her in their arms. She was already unconscious by the time she was in their arms and the stranger continued walking.


	3. Halven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malairis, having survived the trials of the forest, found herself in Land's End. A mysterious town to her full of even stranger people.

The sun fell from its perch in the sky, and the moon rose to replace it. Tucked into a comfortable bed within a quaint house that didn’t match the imposing architecture of Land’s End, Malairis came back to the world of the living. Her entire body was on fire, but she felt better than she had in that alleyway. The crackle of a roaring fire was dancing around the room and her attention gravitated over to one corner. A large ornate fireplace was against one of the walls and near it there was a long table with many colorful glass bottles bubbling that had small tubes winding around the collage of glass. At the end of the table closest to Malairis there sat the tall slender figure. The figure looked feminine when compared to the orcs she had lived with, so she assumed the figure was a woman. The figure was busy writing down something stopping every now and again to reevaluate what they had written. The figure stopped writing and looked towards Malairis with a smile, but the smile turned to a foul glare. The figure quickly stood and rushed over to a bag that was hung on a hook on the far wall away from the fireplace. While the figure was rummaging through the bag, Malairis heard the voice of Khirad quickly enter her head. “Imp! You have been out of my reach for far too long,” Khirad hissed. “Have you already forgotten my benevolence?” Khirad stopped talking briefly and soon returned more aggressive than ever, “Imp! You must stop this mongrel! They intend to use you the same way that savage used you!”

Malairis’ chest felt heavy and her breathing was hard and short. She would not go back to that life, she refused. She fell out of the bed and scrambled to the nearest thing she could defend herself with. The figure looked towards her with concern before returning to the bag. They finally came to what they were searching for and revealed it from the bag. Malairis reached a small stool and pulled herself up to a standing position where she could defend herself. Lifting the stool off the ground, she let out a small whimper. Khirad berated her, “What are you going to do with a stool, you incompetent halfwit!?”

Malairis weakly held the stool and turned towards the figure, pleading, “Don’t… Please…”

The figure raised their hands speaking very softly, “I am here to help you. I need you to try to ignore that voice that you hear.”

The voice retorted, “Don’t listen to them! I helped you escape, or have you forgotten your pledge?!”

Before she could comprehend what was happening, the figure flicked their wrist and she lost consciousness. The last thing she experienced was Khirad reaffirming that Malairis belonged to him and that the figure along with herself will feel his wrath.

Recollections of recent events slithered into Malairis’ now dreaming consciousness. Images of the chieftain standing over her with the knife she had taken his life with came first. She could see clearly the expression he was making. Pure malice expressed itself all the way across his ugly visage. The chieftain was frozen for a short time until she noticed his gaze met hers. All at once his muscles tensed and the knife was plunged into her chest.

She had closed her eyes in preparation for the impact, but when she opened them she found herself back beneath the large tree in the forest. She felt around her chest for a knife wound and was empty handed in the search. Malairis let out a short breath of relief. She slowly stood, using the tree as a support. Back against the tree, she scanned her surroundings. Her eyes widened when she finally realized where her consciousness had taken her. Her focus darted towards where the beast had charged her. Relief swept over her once more when she noticed nothing was standing before her. The snap of a branch sounded above her, causing pieces of the tree to fall to the ground within her line of sight. Sweat collected on her forehead as she slowly looked up into the tree. Twenty feet above her head the beast of the forest was watching her intently. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing escaped her throat. It was as if even her voice had abandoned her. The beast above her let out a roar and leaped from the tree. As she did with the knife she closed her eyes to brace for the impact.

Malairis once more opened her eyes to new, yet familiar surroundings. It was the alley she had collapsed in. She breathed in the scent of the rejected meal and reeled. She focused on the sound of her breathing and made sure to inspect her surroundings. It wasn’t late afternoon as it had been when she arrived in Land’s End. The night sky seemed to envelope her, slowly inching closer. There were no sounds of a bustling city around her, only the sound of her breathing. The sound of her breathing was interrupted by the sound of shoes clapping against the stone walkway of the alley. She tried to call out to the sound, but once more her voice evaded her beckon. The sound continued to approach, and the darkness approached with it. The only form Malairis could make out through the darkness was the long trench coat of the friendly voice. The trench coat paused just before the wall of night over took Malairis. From the surrounding darkness Khirad’s voice boomed. “This is your world without my power, my influence. If you forsake me, your voice will join the chorus of voices pushed to madness. Without me you are without voice, without power. Choose widely in your journey ahead, imp.” The trench coat figure melted into the stone and the familiar sea of rambling voices flooded her mind once more. When she tried to scream out in pain, she instead heard a unique voice rambling in the ocean of sound. Malairis listened closely and came to realize that the voice she was hearing was her own. She gasped, and the surrounding darkness finally overtook her.                

Coming to, Malairis found herself back in the warm bed. This time the figure was seated right next to her bedside. They were looking at a large leather-bound book. She explored the front of the book to try and find a picture that might inform her as to what the book was about. Alas, all that she found was words. The little scratches she always saw on these books the orcs returned with after raids. The secrets these scratches held were always a mystery to her. Soon, she remembered what Khriad had warned her of and she started to breathe heavy once more. The figure noticed this and put down the book of scratches. When the figure smiled this time, the smile did not turn to a glare as it did before. Malairis noticed that the figure had a row of sparkling white teeth. The smile of the figure was warm and caused wrinkles to develop around their lips and eyes. Their eyes were a soft shade of hazel that contrasted well with the dark brown and grey color of their hair. The overall shape of their face was sharper than many of the townsfolk she saw on her arrival. Their ears were far longer and pointier than the townsfolk.  “Before you begin to panic, allow me to introduce myself.” Their voice was the softest voice she can remember hearing. It was as if honey found its way into their words, “Halven Turn-leaf, it’s my pleasure, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Actively writing and unfinished. Mostly edited but tell me when I fucked up. :D


End file.
